


drink him

by rhythmicroman



Series: Batjokes Minifics [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Chemicals, Claiming Bites, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Height Differences, Licking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Moaning, No Plot/Plotless, Not literally, Possessive Behavior, Sort Of, Synesthesia, The Joker Being the Joker, a miracle or blessing or some shit, batman doesn't appear but brucie does, bc joker is a SUB ASS BITCH, degradation kink, i guess, i originally wrote this with 'jack' instead of 'joker' but it felt Off, ig?, its used in reverse lmao, kind of, probably?, the joker is a kinky bitch, wowie a dom joker fic!! from roman?? it must be fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmicroman/pseuds/rhythmicroman
Summary: He bites him again, on his chest this time, and takes his sweet time sucking out all the crimson whilst Bruce seethes.





	drink him

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS THE MOST NSFW THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN  
> sorry for the kinks lmao cvhbyuvcbch i'm a filthy sinner

He smells disgusting.

Like thick chemicals that cling to factory walls. It fills Bruce’s senses with the same sensation as nasty hay fever, and floods the back of his throat with a sour, citrusy, vinegary taste he can’t recognise (and doesn’t want to).

Joker catches him gagging, but just laughs, and comes closer to him. It’s nearly suffocating. So disgustingly intoxicating that he doesn’t notice the clown biting him until he pulls away with blood covering his chin and teeth stained pink.

And of course he’d bite him. He wants the other filthy fucking urchins of the street to see that he’s claimed the Batman. He wants the reporters of Gotham to see Bruce Wayne as his, like they should.

The skin where the Joker touches him fizzes, like electricity, and Joker makes sure to show him that sensation many times, running his pale fingers up and down Bruce’s tanned jaw. He sinks his teeth into the side of his neck this time, pulling his head back by a fistful of black hair, and licks the wounds clean like a dog.

“You’re disgusting,” Bruce manages. Jack hums, licks his lips, shrugs, and silently agrees.

Bruce stands up, and Joker stands too – half a foot shorter, and a lot smaller in other ways, but still pins him quietly against the wall. He bites him again, on his chest this time, and takes his sweet time sucking out all the crimson whilst Bruce seethes.

He pulls away, licks his lips again. “You taste like copper,” he decides, “like coins. Like the money you use to pay off your debts. Like the money you’ll use to cover these marks.”

“Like blood,” Bruce corrects, “like blood.”

Joker laughs. “But was there ever any difference?”

And bites him again, lower down, on his hip, as hard as he can, until he can’t sink his teeth in anymore, until Bruce whines and yells and pulls at his hair – gently, carefully, threading his fingers through the strands.

“I think so,” he manages, through the pain and the thickness in the air, “because we don’t bleed money.”

The clown is sure to make his slurping as loud as possible when he leans back, and to have his mouth as smeared in red as possible when he looks up. He smiles, in that giddy, excited way that only comes out when he’s like this.

“I think you bleed money, rich-boy, Brucie-babe,” he pauses to lick a droplet off Bruce’s thigh, “Cos I’ve tasted poor-bitch blood, and it tastes like mud and sweat, and yours tastes like copper, and,” another pause for thought – he has to be literate around his billionaire boy, “and silver bullets.”

He straightens up finally, and looks up into Bruce’s eyes, the taller man’s fingers still tangled in his hair; “And tell me, Brucie, what I taste like? What’s the flavour of the Knave?”

Bruce doesn’t have time to take the initiative, as the Joker reaches up and grabs him by the hair, pushing his head down into his collarbone, and he bites as hard as he can. The clown moans a little, in some mixture of pain and pleasure, and lets out a soft cackle when Bruce departs.

The bat takes a minute to think about it, staring in the expectant emeralds of the clown’s eyes. “Like apple juice after you brush your teeth. Like smashing your forehead into concrete. Like dirty shoes and bloody palms.”

The Joker curls his tongue around his mouth in thought before he accepts Bruce’s answer, leaning forward into his chest and kissing him hard.

_(The inside of his mouth tastes metallic, like Bruce’s blood, and like citrus and bad headaches; like dusty counter-tops and transparent plastic; flies, the dark, and the rain.)_


End file.
